Guarding Her Heart | t.swift

Chapter 63: Space Between Life and Death

Quincy was intimately familiar with pain—it had been her constant companion from a young age. Her mother had shielded her from her father's wrath for as long as she could, but the inevitable came, and she learned what it meant to endure. She knew the sting of unjust punishment, and from that, she made a vow: never would she be the one to inflict it on others. She swore to be fair, patient, and understanding. But perhaps, in her quest to be better, she had become too good at it. Her patience was often mistaken for leniency, and people began to take advantage, believing that she would let their transgressions slide. It didn't take long for her to learn that once someone crossed a line, they rarely hesitated to cross it again.

Quincy also knew darkness—she lived with it every day. Her father's abuse cast a shadow so thick and suffocating that it left her constantly on edge, paranoid, always expecting the worst. That constant vigilance would eventually be her undoing. How long can someone truly spend their life looking over their shoulder, pushing their limits day in and day out to keep others safe? The answer, she would soon find, was only for so long. She built walls to protect herself, thick and impenetrable, because after her sister's death, she couldn't bear the thought of letting anyone else in.

Anger was another old companion. It fueled her, propelling her forward when nothing else could. But it was a double-edged sword—driving her one moment, paralysing her the next. She carried her anger like armour, a way to shield herself from the cruelties of life, a way to push people away. Deep down, her fury was directed at her sister, Bellamy, for leaving her behind. That anger gnawed at her, sharper because Bellamy was no longer there to forgive. She wrestled with the knowledge that her sister had chosen to abandon her, to take the easier way out and reunite with their mother. She tried to understand and tried to tell herself that Bellamy simply needed their mother more than she needed her little sister. But understanding didn't make the pain any easier to bear.

Death was something Quincy knew better than most. She had both dealt it and experienced it firsthand—more than once. She knew its cold touch, but also its strange warmth. She knew how empty it could feel, yet how it could be filled with fleeting moments of what she had lost. Taking a life was disturbingly easy, and she had learned just how fragile humans could be. But she had also seen the monsters they could become. So many were unable to resist the pull of darkness, choosing to feed it because it was easier than seeking the light. And she understood that. After all, she had boarded up her own windows, sealed her walls, and kept the light—and others—out.

○○○FLASHBACK○○○
Quincy's world had collapsed into chaos. She hadn't seen it coming, the sharp sting of pain in her side stealing her breath. The gunfire, the smoke, the screams—it all became a distant blur as her body hit the ground. Blood soaked into the dirt around her as her vision blurred.

In the middle of the carnage, Ivan, one of her most trusted team members, spotted her fall. His heart lept into his throat. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward her, weaving through debris and chaos, narrowly avoiding enemy fire. He wasn't leaving her behind.

"Lieutenant!" Ivan shouted, skidding to a stop beside her. She lay on her back, her breathing ragged, her face pale. Blood poured from a wound in her abdomen, staining her uniform.

"Stay with me, Q," Ivan grunted as he hooked his arms under hers, dragging her toward the nearest cover. He gritted his teeth, fighting against the weight of her gear and the panic threatening to overtake him. Quincy was tough as nails, but this-this was bad.

The gunfire around them intensified, bullets kicking up dirt as Ivan pulled her behind the partial cover of a crumbled building. "Hang on," he breathed, quickly assessing her wound. Blood was everywhere. Too much blood.